Why?
by Kameka
Summary: A thirty-minute episode extension for "You're a Good Man, Lizzie McGuire." Just a small scene that may have happened had the episode not ended where it did.


Disclaimers: The characters of _Lizzie McGuire _and the episode "You're a Good Man, Lizzie McGuire" do not belong to me, they belong to Disney or whoever happens to own them. No disrespect is intended and I'm not making any money off this; just trying to convince my muses to let me go to sleep at a semi-decent time.

Warnings: This is my first (finished) Lizzie McGuire ficlet, so characterization may be off.

Summary: A thirty-minute episode extension for "You're a Good Man, Lizzie McGuire." Just a small scene that may have happened had the episode not ended where it did.

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Why?

Kameka

Lizzie looked around, the happy smile staying on her face even as she surveyed the destruction of her backyard. Nothing had happened like it was supposed to. Not that she was complaining. She'd gone from excited about going to the dance to depressed she was the only person _not_ going; spending a Friday night alone at home. From there, she'd gotten one surprise after another as the doorbell rang continuously, her friends from school forgoing the Springtime-in-Paris themed dance to hang out with her.

"You're looking pretty shocked," the lone visitor left told her as he stepped out from the shadows.

"The party adrenaline's wearing off," she gave to Gordo by way of answer. "Did you plan this?" she asked, suspecting that he had. It was a Gordo thing to do.

He held up his hands and shook his head. "Nope, didn't have a clue what was gonna happen." He stepped forward and handed her a large black trash bag he had retrieved from the McGuire household kitchen, "I didn't even know that Miranda and Cody were planning on showing up, let alone everyone else."

"Why'd you come? Why not go to the dance?" she asked as she bent to pick paper cups up from the ground.

"I already told you, McGuire, why would I want to go when my best friend wouldn't have been there?" he repeated what he'd said earlier. "Hey, mini doughnut?" he asked, finding the light cardboard container he had brought over to share with her. When she shook her head, he popped the single fried survivor into his mouth and chewed with relish.

"Okay, I can understand why you'd come over," she said as she rolled her eyes at him. "But Miranda and Cody? She was _so_ excited about going to the dance. Ethan Craft and Tudgeman? Everyone else? They aren't my best friends."

"Like Ethan said..." Gordo cleared his throat and began a fair impression of the jock, "Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. You can't go to the party, so we're bringing the party to you."

She laughed at his antics and sat down on the wooden steps of the deck. "That's what I don't get," she finally told him quietly as she twisted some of her blonde hair in her fingers. "_Why _would they bring the party to me?"

"Because they like you. You're popular," he answered as he sat down next to her.

She flicked him an astounded, questioning glance. "Me, popular? Yeah, right. You aren't talking to Kate here, Gordo. It's me, Lizzie, remember? Part of the reason I wanted to be on the dance committee in the first place was because I thought it'd help make me popular."

"You don't need a dance committee to help make you popular, Lizzie. You already are." When she looked at him, Gordo sighed. "You don't get it, do you? I know I'm not talking to Kate, Lizzie. You're popular because you _aren't_ Kate." Her eyes widened in disbelief and he shook his head. "Lizzie, would Kate have told Principal Tweety that she'd broken the statue if she hadn't done it?"

"She didn't even tell him when she _did_ do it," she reminded him.

"Exactly. She bragged about it but refused to step forward and do the right thing. You did, even when it wasn't your place. Why?"

"Well," she hesitated, shrugging. "I wanted everyone else to be able to go," she finally said. "It wasn't my fault the dance was cancelled, but if I could make things right for everyone, I was going to."

"Would Kate have done that?"

She rolled her eyes and laughed, her head dropping to rest on his shoulder. "Yeah, right, I can see _that_ happening sometime in the next fifty years," she said sarcastically.

"Exactly," he returned. "Everyone showed up tonight because they knew what you did. More importantly, they know who you _are_. You're Lizzie McGuire. You help anyone you can to the best of your ability. You even help _Kate_," he reminded her.

"So? That's just doing what has to be done."

He sighed and rested his head on hers. "You aren't following my logic here, are you?"

"If I could understand it, I'd probably follow better," she assured him. "I know what you're trying to do, Gordo. And I appreciate it. Really, I do. I just think you're _way_ off base here."

"Nothing new in that," he decided with a sigh as he gently brushed some of her blonde hair from her face.

"If you weren't planning on everyone showing up, what were you thinking of when you came over tonight?" she asked him suddenly.

"That I might be able to cheer you up with some company. That we could watch a movie or two, maybe listen to some music. Or just sit around and talk," he answered.

"Sounds like fun. Want to do it tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I'd like that. But you bring the mini doughnuts this time."

They were both laughing when the glass door behind them opened and Jo McGuire stepped out. "Hey, Lizzie?"

Lizzie pulled away from her resting spot and half turned on the steps. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Did you have a good time, honey?"

"Yeah," she answered with a smile. "Thanks for not pitching a fit about the unexpected party."

"All part of raising teenagers, honey. I'm glad you've cheered up," she said, searching her daughter's face.

Lizzie flushed slightly as she remembered the scene in the kitchen that had been interrupted by all of the arrivals. "Completely cheered up," she assured her mother.

"Good. Now that you have," she hesitated, wondering just how to ask. Evidently deciding that it was best to ask straight out, she did. "Could you explain you were talking about earlier? All I can remember is a statue of some sort, bubble gum... Canada." She watched in bemusement as her daughter's best friend laughed and stood up, grabbing the garbage bag and beginning to collect garbage while singing 'Oh, Canada' repeatedly.

"Everything worked itself out, Mom, but thanks." Lizzie smiled and picked up her own bag to finish the chore of cleaning up.

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The End

Feedback is appreciated.


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